The Night Shift
by Truth About Forever
Summary: It was a night of healing. One fateful night, two broken characters meet in the most unconvential of ways. A doctor who doesn't understand why he does his job. A patient, on the brink of death. Can they do the impossible, and save eachother?


_This is my first story on FanFiction. It all started when I was in my bed, my mind racing a million miles a minute. Thoughts of the previous Grey's Anatomy episode still fresh in my mind. Like in every story I hear, read, or see I stick my two favorite characters, Bella and Edward, into them and thus is The Night Shift is born. Please consider that this is very, very, very loosely based on Grey's Anatomy. Nothing even close to Grey's Anatomy._

_Songs- Hometown Glory-Adele, Sometime Around Midnight-Airborne Toxic Event, Stop and Stare-One Republic, Quiet in My Town-Civil Twilight._

**There's a fine line of being dead and being alive.**

It was like any other shift. People came in with blood soaked clothes; they came out as good as new. All part of the job of saving lives. Except this night shift was different. Call it a doctor's intuition, but I felt like tonight was going to be a very important night. I could feel it right down to my core.

I was doing the night shift tonight because we were understaffed due to a bug going around. The irony of it all kills me. We're the finest doctors in the state and yet we can't take care of ourselves from a simple stomach bug. The few of us who didn't get it, were working tonight in the worst snowstorm of the year. The only thing that made this night somewhat bearable is that my best friend Jasper is working it with me too. But that's where the positive things end.

It's the busiest night I have ever seen in the E.R. All due to the biggest snowstorm of the year is turning the roads into black ice. Hit the ice in the wrong direction and you got yourself a very bloody accident. Most of the people that have come in today kept saying they had no idea how they got here. One minute they were coasting down I99 and the next they were spinning down to their worst nightmare.

I walked down the familiar white hall and into the heart of the chaos, the door. The door, where every tick of the clock counts. We have 30 vital seconds to rush our patient into the O.R. or the proper room to treat them in. 30 seconds. It's in these 30 seconds where we learn their condition and figure out the best way to fix him or her. It's in these 30 seconds where it's just life or death.

I ran my hand through my hair, an old habit that I do whenever I get anxious or nervous. I stared at the hectic E.R. and watched how other doctors handled treating their patients. Some with ease and confidence, knowing full well they were the best and wouldn't hesitate to tell you themselves. Others unsure and anxious, trying but failing to conceal their anxieties the best they could. Then they're the ones that has already worked 2 shifts and wished they were anywhere but here. I would classify myself in that category. I love my job, with reservations, but I have worked so hard and I truly believe that I need a break or else I might spontaneously combust.

I've been in this job for 3 years, just completing my residency training. It took me 3 years to finish my bachelor degree and another 3 to finish my MD degree. Something deemed impossible, but I worked my ass off during University to get where I am today. Standing in an empty hallway, waiting. Waiting for somebody to be in the brink of death, somebody I can save, somebody I can heal. In some way, us doctor's, are sick. Sick knowing that once we pour every ounce of ourselves into saving that person, they're just going to die anyways. But this is our job, saving people. Giving them another breath, another chance, another memory; this is my job.

I was soon brought back to reality when a stretcher came bursting through the door.

"Alright what do we got?" I asked, while easily keeping pace with the paramedics and nurses rushing the patient to the O.R.

"We got a 42 year old, male, suffering head trauma, broken ribs, and internal bleeding in the tissue of the broken ribs," a nurse said.

"Sir," I looked down at the man, he was bloodied up, but nothing I could not fix. "I'm your doctor and my name is Dr. Cullen. I'm going to need you to stay with me for a little while longer until we can get you into the O.R. In the meantime can you tell me your name?" I already knew is name, Peter Frampton, but I needed him to stay awake or else he can loose consciousness, and never come back.

"Peter," he whispered. I could tell just breathing was difficult for him. Must be the broken ribs or the swelling on his chest; most likely both.

"Alright Peter, do you have any family that we can contact to let them know you are here?" He does, he has a wife and 2 children, but when reminded of family, the patient usual fights harder to live.

"My…my wife," he said after much difficulty. We turned into another hall and bursted into the operating room. I helped carry the man from the stretcher, onto the operation table.

"Ok, we'll contact your wife as soon as possible, now hang back and relax, your in good hands," I said. A nurse put the anesthetics mask over his mouth, and thus began my night.

Peter Frampton survived the surgery and is expected to make a full recovery. So far no one has died this night, yet. Of course there were plenty of close calls, but at least they are not dead; but that's not always the case.

Being a doctor it happens, people die; you can't save them all. Every doctor has been there. Where we're in the operating room and everything is going just as planned. Not one mistake; textbook perfection. Where your best friend is the steady beep of your patients' heart; where your best friend turns into your worst enemy. In a blink of an eye they flat line. Where the only thing heard is a monotone beep that has no end. Disappointment clouds our vision and where we bleakly call out the time of death.

I believe losing someone who fought hard is the toughest part of my job. Of course losing any patient is hard, but losing one that has fought their hardest, it kind of makes me lose hope. Like why is there even a point in fighting? But seeing a patient alive and healthy, it makes everything I do seem worth it. That's why I asked Peter Frampton questions that I already knew the answers too. It gives them a reason to fight. It gives me a reason to fight. So here I am, at 1 in the morning, standing in front of the door once again feeling exhausted and in need of a good slap-

"How you holding up," Jasper said giving me a slap to my shoulder.

"Good, no one died," I replied sarcastically, "How about you?"

Jasper closely studied the tiles design, "I sometimes wonder why I do this job, I truly do," he said, still looking down. He voice was not one of a 26 year old, but of a man that has suffered a great deal in his life.

"I was just thinking the same thing too," I mumbled to myself.

"But when I tell a mother or a father that their son or daughter is going to live another day, it makes things seem better." He said more confidently. All forlornness forgotten, he composed himself and said, "Out of the 10 people I had come my way, only one survived past the Operating Room."

"I'm sorry man," I said as sincerely as possible, "Sometimes they just slip right through our fingers." Jasper is the type of person that always carried an aura of calm everywhere he went. He was just that kind of person. So seeing Jasper looking like he was, lost and confused, I knew things were really bad.

"But look at you, you like the time we went to Cancun," he said with a plastered fake smile, trying to make things light, while I just groaned and looked above at the fluorescent lights.

"Do not remind of that. 'Till this day I have not had one drop of tequila thanks to you," I said sending a glare his way.

"Hey, what happened in Cancun stays in Cancun," he winked at me, "But seriously, you look exhausted"

"I feel exhausted," I sighed.

"Why don't you get reacquainted with the coffee machine? That will give you a good pick me up," he said, while taking a sip of his own coffee. I didn't notice it until now, but god did that look inviting. Going to the break room was looking better and better just thinking about it.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I said just about to walk to the ever so inviting break room when I heard the oncoming ambulance.

"I guess the coffee will just have to wait," I mumbled to myself. I started to walk toward the commotion but I felt a hand on my chest, stopping me.

"I got this one," Jasper said with a determined look in his eye. I learned years ago to never stop Jasper when he was determined.

I watched how Jasper jogged toward the paramedics got up to speed in his new patients' condition. I saw no hesitation in his movements. I only saw confidence of how is new patient should be treated. He was taking command like a sergeant to his soldiers ready for battle. I know it's a strange analogy, but that's what he describes himself when talking about it to the other people about the best part of his profession. All those emotions he displayed before were replaced with confidence and ease. I watched him work until he turned to the corner, and was out of sight.

I decided to take up Jasper's invitation for that steaming cup of coffee. The black liquid streaming down my throat looked more and more inviting. I can practically taste the coffee in my tongue. The way my tongue would sear from the hot beverage. The way my taste buds would feel numb after the coffee. The delicious jolt I'll get once I take my first sip… I was soon knocked out of my reverie when I heard a very loud commotion in back of me. I spun around and rushed over to my new patient, forgetting about my coffee.

What I saw before me took my breath away. Time seemed to slow down for a couple of seconds. It was the most gruesome accident I have ever seen in my 3 years of practicing medicine. Every inch of her was covered in blood. I examined her head first and saw a huge gash in her forehead. Her hair must have been brown, but deep red was covering the color of her hair. She seemed to have been wearing a dress, because her bloodied up legs were bare. Her left leg was dislocated and her right was swelling. Remainders of glass shards were still in her right arm, too dangerous to have been pulled out by a paramedic due to how deep in the skin it was. Her abdomen seemed to have a huge gash there too. I saved her face for last. She has very full lips, but due to the shock, they were blue. She seemed to be around my age. My age, and the chances of her survival are slim to none.

"Her name is Isabella Swan, we found her in a ditch off the highway, she hit the ice wrong and spun out onto the ditch we found her in," I dimly heard a paramedic say. I was too busy studying her face. Something about her seemed to…allure me. Maybe it's her face, the shape of her jaw line… or something. But I, somehow… felt…connected to her.

I supposed we were moving, but my eyes never left the face of Isabella Swan. Very slowly, her eyes opened. They were round and the most beautiful shade of brown I have ever seen. She took in her surroundings and looked around lazily. Her face showed confusion and her face scrunched up, trying to remember what happened. That was until she looked up at me.

It was like time stopped. Everything that I felt was missing in my life, vanished. Every part of me that felt empty was now whole. My life seemed…complete. It's the most frightening experience of my life. I recommend it. Every bit of confidence I once had went down the drain. I felt small and insecure just looking at this girl who looked like she wouldn't survive the next hour. It frightened me to know that this girl could have so much power over me in just mere seconds. Then her eyes spoke.

"_Am I going to die?"_ Isabella's eyes said to me.

I gave her a sad smile, _"Things aren't looking too good."_

If eyes could sigh, I swear I just saw Isabella's eyes just sigh. Her eyes looked sad, and the only thing I wanted to do was comfort this girl. Protect her from all the horrors of the world. To die at such a young age…my age. I pitied this amazing girl. And then, she once again took my breath away. Her eyes hardened and glared at me.

"_That's not good enough,"_ her eyes read. I was shocked, and I'm pretty sure she saw it too.

"_What?"_ my eyes said, hardening. How dare she glare at me, I'm the one that's about to save her, and she glares at me! Her logic must be severally twisted.

Her eyes turned into one of defiance, _"You heard me."_

"Isabella," I said out loud, "We are going to pour every ounce we have to save you. And god dammit we will. You are going to live," I annunciated each word to the last sentence trying to get my voice across. Not only to Isabella, but to my staff as well; we are not going to give up.

"_That's more like it,"_ her eyes read.

I was snapped back into reality when we reached the Operating Room. I helped carry Isabella from the stretcher onto the Operating Table. I was surprised to find out that Isabella was incredibly light. They didn't really need my help. Once I was all scrubbed in, I turned my attention back to Isabella's eyes, but those weren't needed.

"Call me Bella," Bella said so faintly that I thought I imagined it. Bella looked at me once more, but this time when she looked at me, it wasn't through a glare. It was with unbending trust. Trust to save her life. Trust I did not deserve.

"Bella," I said, "I'm going to fight hard to save your life. I will not take no as an answer. You are going to live past this night and the next, and many nights later. I swear to you that you are," I said with every ounce of conviction and honesty I could muster. "But I'm going to need your help, I need you to promise me you will fight hard too," My eyes bored into hers. I felt like if I stared long enough into those eyes, all my troubles and problems would disappear.

"I promise," I heard her say softly. A nurse put the anesthetics mask over her mouth. Her eyes never leaving mine drooped.

This was about to be the most important surgery of my career. I could feel it. I knew it. I stared up at the ceiling and prayed to whatever god there was that this girl will survive. I prayed not only for her well being, but for mine too. If she didn't survive, I truly would not know what to do. So for the first time in a very long time, I clasped my hands together, said a prayer and whispered amen.

**BPOV**

I sighed while looking at the clock. Willing it to go faster so this torture could end, but of course the little hand just moved to the next number and a new revulsion took place. Time is the one thing in our lives that has never failed us. It has always been there to tick and to tock. It's the one thing that is orderly and repetitive, down to the very end.

"Are you done yet?" I said my voice laced with irritation.

"Bella," Alice sighed while grabbing a strand of my hair and wrapping it around the curling iron, "That's not very attractive behavior," she scolded.

"See, I'm a lost cause. So why don't you free my hair from the torture device it's in now and we can get going?" I pleaded, hope in my eyes.

"I said it was not attractive _behavior_, I didn't say you weren't attractive." Alice said while releasing the newly curled hair and worked on another strand, "Come on Bella, this party is going to be fun and you know it. And there's going to be a ton of hot guys there," She said while playfully nudging me, but there seemed to be an edge in her voice

"Your definition of a 'hot guy' is totally different then my definition of a 'hot guy'," I pointed out.

"Maybe, but that doesn't matter. You finally agreed to come to a party! It's a miracle!" She threw her tiny arms in the air, forgetting about the hot curling iron she was holding.

"OW!" I exclaimed, "Alice! This is the 3rd time you have done this! As of right now, you are no longer allowed to play Malibu Barbie on me." I said while folding my arms against my chest in a stubborn manner.

"Bella," she whined, "You can't be serious. Besides, half of your hair is curled while the other half is straight." She said matter-of-factly while grinning triumphantly.

I glared at her through the mirror. She responded with an innocent smile.

"Anyways…I honestly don't remember the last time you have been out. I swear it's like you have turned into a hermit. Oh don't you pout at me Ms. Swan," she scowled.

"Fine," I sighed, "When is Emmett coming to pick us up?" I asked. Emmett was Alice's older brother. We have been friends since I moved to Forks, Washington. They were the first people I befriended when I came here, and we've been inseparable ever since.

Alice glanced at the clock, "Ten minutes ago, but I guess Rose is taking a longer time getting ready than us."

"Impossible," I grumbled. Rose is Emmett's beautiful wife. They've been married for 2 years now and are the happiest couple I know.

After many poking and placing, Alice was finished with the medieval torture she was inflicting on me. She then directed me to put on a dress that cost more than my paycheck and was to short for my liking. I put up a fight but in the end, Alice prevailed and I left our apartment looking how I felt, awkward. I voiced my thoughts to Alice, but that ended badly.

"No one looks awkward when Alice Brandon is styling!" Alice said, sounding more like a superhero than a fashion designer.

"Well, would it kill you to get me a longer dress next time, I'm freezing out here," I shivered. Even when wearing a coat, I was freezing my ass off. We were waiting outside our apartment building, waiting for Emmett's warm jeep to pick us up

"Any longer and your going to be looking like a nun," Alice said pointedly.

I stuck my tongue at her and did a little dance, trying to warm myself up.

"Dear god it's cold out here," I said, my breath coming out like smoke.

"You're telling me. I swear, when I get my hands on that boy…" She glared at the ominous street. I stared in her direction and all the sudden Emmett's headlights came in to view. He honked the horn obnoxiously signaling that he was here. He stopped in front of us and Alice and I climbed into his car.

"Sorry about that, ladies," Emmett said, looking back at us, "Rose and I had a little pre party at our house…" He laughed when Alice and I both chorused our "Ew's" but his laughter was cut short when Rose slapped him in the back of his head.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, "What was that for?" He said, nursing his head where he was hit.

"For being an idiot," she said to Emmett, she turned back to face us and said. "We really are sorry for making you guys wait out there in the cold."

"It's ok, we only got hypothermia," I replied sarcastically, but I smiled to let her know all was forgiven. The ride to the party was filled with catching up and lots of laughter. When we arrived to the house, things went silent. Too silent.

"Alright, what's going on?" I said suspiciously.

"What on earth are you talking about, Bella?" Alice said innocently, feigning shock.

"Emmett?" I said, drawing out his name never leaving my gaze off Alice, looking at her suspiciously. She gave me a nervous life. My eyes narrowed.

"Bella," he said, drawing out my name too, but sounding uncertain.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded. I looked at Rose, then Emmett, then Alice, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh hush Bella," Rose said dismissively, "Let's go in, we are already late," and with that she opened the door and got out of the car. We all walked together up the driveway, onto the unfamiliar porch. I glanced suspiciously at all of them once more. Something didn't feel right.

"Just know Bella, this was not my idea and I do not approve of this," Emmett piped putting both hands in the air in surrender. I spun around to look at Emmett, my back towards the door. Both Alice and Rose looked traitorously at Emmett. I faintly heard the doorbell ring but I paid no attention.

"Ok, what the hell is going on?" I barked wanting to know exactly what is going on. Why I was here.

Emmett leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Just incase," he slipped his car key into my coat pocket, before ruffling my hair.

"Alice, I mean it, what is going on?" I said on the verge of hysterics. They all shared the look I have seen too many times. The look I saw for 2 years straight. I heard the door open and a voice that sent shivers down my spine spoke.

"Hey guys, it's cold out here, why don't you come inside?" _His_ voice said, starting to slow down when he saw who was here, or more exactly, when he saw who I was. I turned around and saw _him_ standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking uncomfortable and uncertain.

"Hey babe, who's at the door," said a tan girl wearing a white dress, putting her left a hand on _his_ muscular arm. On that left hand stood a ring grabbing everybody's attention, a ring that demanded my attention. A ring that mocked me, a ring that claimed what was once mine, hers.

"Ness, this is Alice Brandon, Rosalie McCarthy, Emmett McCarthy, and Bella Swan. They are all very good friends of mine," He said. It was all so very formal and distant. The man I once knew seemed to be replaced by a look alike that was most defiantly not the man I once loved. Then he said 5 simple words that changed life as I knew it.

"Bella, this is my fiancé, Vanessa," He said cautiously like I was some hostile animal that was about to attack. This new man was cautious and cold; the man I knew was care free and warm. He motioned to the girl that draped her left hand over him protectively, like he would leave her for me. It was an absurd thought for her to be thinking, because he so clearly imprinted his heart to hers.

I dimly heard what he was saying now because my world seemed to fall around me. _He_ had a fiancé. _He_ is going to marry her. _He_ is going to spend the rest of his life with her. _He_ is going to have a family with her. _He_ is going to grow old with her. _He_ is going to do everything with her. I am not, nor am I ever going to be, _her_.

Is this what Alice and Rose planned? To see me finally get myself together after 2 excruciating years, to break down on his porch in 30 seconds flat? Of course they didn't intend for this to happen. But if they intended for this to happen or not, it happened. In a blink of an eye, everything seemed to click together: the silence in the car, why they didn't tell me what was going on, why Emmett gave me the key to his car.

The key.

I clutched the key like a cross. This tiny, insignificant key was my one ticket to get out of here. I bleakly looked around to Rose, who looked uncomfortable. To Alice, who looked disappointed, clearly not expecting for this to happen. To Emmett who looked at me the same time I looked at him, and nudged his head toward the Jeep. Emmett, sweet, sweet Emmett; the older brother I never had is now my own personal savior. I only saw one way out of this predicament, and I liked what I saw.

I rashly took off into a sprint to the Jeep, ignoring the worried calls for me and the "What are you doing's?" I forcefully opened the driver's door and pulled out of the driveway, heading off into the stormy night. I sped out of his cul-de-sac and tried to find my way out of this god forsaken neighborhood. When I found my way out, I was at crossroads. Go the safe, predictable route where the others could find me easily. Or go through the un-trodden, windy road that looked complicated and messy, but strangely inviting. Before I knew it, I turned left and started my way through the windy road.

The tears that have been threatening to fall fell. A broken sob came out of me and the speedometer sped up. I rolled the window down and felt the cold December hit me like a brutal snap. The car was moving but I felt like I wasn't going anywhere. I sped up faster and faster taking dangerous turns that made the car glide more and more in each turn. Ice like texture started to come out of the window making me put the window up due to the pain it was inflicting on me.

"Why?" I screamed to nothing in particular. "Why me? What the hell did I ever do wrong?!" I screamed as loud as I could, the sobs increasing in tempo and sound.

"He's going to get married! The son of a bitch is going to get married in a little white church. He's going to look down that aisle and see that beautiful girl that he is going to spend the rest of his life." I said to myself hysterically, on the verge of a mental breakdown. "Why? He said he loved me; he said he would never leave me and look at him now! He's going to get married!" I sobbed harder than I have ever sobbed before in my life.

"It's supposed to be me!" I said brokenly, defeated, "It's supposed to be me."

The unfairness of it all suffocated me. I tried to breath, but my lungs felt compressed. I was losing myself and I was going over 100 miles per hour in a god forsaken road. Everything around me looked bleak. I could die and I wouldn't care. He didn't love me. He never loved me.

The hole in my chest that I crudely patched up in my heart ripped open. Every feeling that I suppressed in the last 2 years came out and bursted like a raw nova. The agony consumed me and blurred my vision. I tried to make sense of the road, but I hit the ice wrong. I swerved onto the other lane and saw white bright lights that blinded me. Time seemed to stop. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The white lights consumed me and I felt the jeep swerve back into the lane I was in before, but the car went too fast. The last thing I remembered was falling and falling into darkness.

::~::

I feel extremely uncomfortable.

If this is how death is, can I get a redo on living again?

I don't feel pain, I feely oddly numb. Everything around me is black and heavy. I feel things moving but I stayed in place. It's like I'm riding in a car, the car is in motion while I stay stationary. A car! I was driving in car before I was here. But where is "here"? Whatever or wherever "here" is, it's uncomfortable as no other.

A sharp jab to my right arm took me out this stupor. The numbness and heaviness I once felt was no replaced with agony and a compressing feeling. My whole body seemed to ache in places I never knew could ache. I was in pain and no one was doing anything! That's when I felt the cold December again once again. This time though, it was accompanied my snow. Everything came crashing back down into me. The porch, the engagement, the screams, the headlights…

Suddenly all around me was being poked and prodded by god knows what. People were barking orders here in there. My curiosity finally got the best of me and I lazily opened my eyes.

Fluorescence lights blinded me. It took me a couple seconds to adjust to the lighting and the shear whiteness of where I was. I looked around some more to figure out where I was and was instantly met by the most beautiful creature of my life.

I knew I was dead. Things like him didn't exist. But the pain that over took my whole body told me that I wasn't dead. I was in too much pain to be dead. So if I wasn't dead then that meant I was close to being dead.

I looked up at the man that blocked the fluorescence lights giving me a full view of him. He has a disheveled bronze hair that has fallen into his eyes because he is looking down at me. His nose is perfectly angular, not too big not too small. His eyes… I feel like if I stared at them long enough I could get lost in them. They had so much depth and color. The greenest shade of green I have ever seen. Their seemed to be a sparkle in them and I wondered if he was doing the same thing as I was. Trying to memorize his face in full detail, never wanting to forget how the last beautiful thing I saw looked like. Which brought me back up to the whole dead thing. I had so many questions to ask, but I know talking is impossible right now. I did my best trying to communicate to him through my eyes. Weird, but I somehow felt that if I tried, he will answer my questions.

"_Am I going to die_?" my eyes pleaded. Wanting to know and yet not wanting to know.

The man gave me sad smile, "_Things aren't looking to good_," they read.

I sighed, of course not.

Even though a couple of hours, (or was it minutes ago?) I wouldn't have care if I died, but now, this man…he gave me…hope. Hope I haven't felt in 2 years. Hope that maybe I'll have an actual conversation with this man. This man, who is a complete stranger to me, ignited something in me. He made me feel…alive. Even though I know I am so close to death. The green eyes bored into mine, and they looked somewhat…sorry for me. Sorry that I probably won't live until the next hour. Sorry that my life was going to be cut short. I've seen that look constantly for the past 2 years. I'm tired of that look.

I hardened my eyes and glared at him. "_That's not good enough_" my eyes said. I wanted more than anything to have a real conversation with this man and god dammit I will!

His face contorted into one of shock. Shock that I glared at him who can save me: both physically and mentally. It wasn't because I finally figured out that I was in a hospital or that he was wearing a white lab coat, it was because eyes his told me so. Unknowingly, his eyes told me everything I wanted hear. No pun intended.

"_What?_" His eyes read, hardening at the fact that I glared at him.

"_You heard me,_" my eyes turned into one of defiance. I really want to live and I will not take no as an answer. Then this man did something I never thought he'd do, he talked, out loud.

"Isabella," his voice sounded like velvet. I didn't want to think about how much I liked him saying my name, even if it was my full name. "We are going to pour every ounce we have to save you. And god dammit we will. You are going to live," He annunciated each word to the last sentence. This man clearly got his voice across because all around nurses straighten up their backs and held their head up high.

"_That's more like it,"_ my eyes read.

Then time seemed to catch back up to me. Everyone was moving and rushing while I stayed stationary. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. They lifted me up onto the operating table and I was once again blinded by white lights. I flinched, seeing the trucks lights and the feeling of rolling consumed me. With the rolling feeling still intact I felt people poking me this way and that but I did my best to ignore them. A hungrily looked for those green eyes and try to get more explanations out of him. I found the owner of the eyes and I was overcome by desperation to tell him something, out loud.

"Call me Bella," I said so faintly that I was scared that he didn't hear me. The recognition in his eyes told me he did.

I looked at his appearance and he took my breath away. He was wearing scrubs and a mask over his mouth. He looked confident and sure of himself. It was in that moment that I declared that I trusted this stranger indefinably. He is going to be the man to save me. He is going to be the one that is going to put me out of my misery. I trusted this stranger with my life.

"Bella," his voice making me shiver, "I'm going to fight hard to save your life. I will not take no as an answer. You are going to live past this night and the next, and many nights later. I swear to you that you are," he said with so much of conviction and honesty that a believed him. "But I'm going to need your help, I need you to promise me you will fight hard too," his eyes bored into mine.

"I promise," I whispered. A nurse came over and put an anesthetics mask over my face. My gaze never tearing away from his until my eyelids drooped and I was once again consumed by darkness.


End file.
